Rewriting the Stars
by Carolare Scarletus
Summary: Tom Riddle comes to her in his restored form, wanting to make up for the last three years and all the tears she'd shed. With the promise of being able to love her the way she's dreamed, the pair embark on a treacherous journey to right the wrong of their past,. Little do they know about the demons their about to face and the doors they're about to open. Love is a powerful thing.


**House:** Slytherin

 **Category:** Themed

 **Prompts:** [Word] Delicate Hands

 **Word count: 2536** (Excluding Author's Note, but including entire Entry and Title)

 **Warning:** This is an AU (Alternate Universe) piece.

 **Characters:** Hermione Granger; Graham Montague; Tom Riddle

 **Summary:** Tom Riddle comes to her in his restored form, wanting to make up for the last three years and all the tears she'd shed. With the promise of being able to love her the way she's dreamed, the pair embark on a treacherous journey to right the wrong of their past,. Little do they know about the demons their about to face and the doors they're about to open. Love is a powerful thing, but is it enough to survive the trials that lie ahead?

 **Author's Note:** This piece goes out to my Tomione loving friend, Mari :) As I was writing this, I realized that I would have to go back to flesh it out and add onto it (thanks ever so much, Mari! Still love ya!). I hope y'all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it; it would definitely be interesting to see where my muses take this.

 _As always, enjoy_

-Carolare Scarletus

* * *

 **Rewriting the Stars**

* * *

' _What on earth am I doing here?'_ she couldn't help asked herself for the third time since she arrived. Hermione Granger was having a difficult time coming to terms with the series of events that had led to this night. She was attending a charity event for persons affected by the Unforgivables and their families, something she'd come increasingly involved with over the last several years. A healthy mix of aristocratic diplomats were in attendance; she took great pleasure knowing that some of the privileged class weren't snobbish and selfish. She only wished her date was part of the selected few, having found his company less than satisfactory and the night hadn't even begun.

"How are you feeling, Darlin'?" Graham Montague asked her, spaying his fingers against her lower back. His delicate hands were cold to the touch on her bare skin. They were making great stances in their introductions to the highly acclaimed selection of spectators. Hermione stiffened. He could be bold and she told him several times to watch where those fingers trailed. She couldn't be accountable for a lost digit, but Graham was known not to follow orders. "Not too tiresome?"

"I still stand by my opinion, Montague."

Graham smiled. "That you're absolutely lucky to be in the presence of a real man?"

Hermione stopped and whipped her head around, glowering at her escort's statement. "You know nothing about love."

"No," he told her simply, "you're wrong. You're the one who doesn't know what love is, my dear." Graham tilted his head in consideration, silent for only a moment before his thoughts came into fruition. "I should have known you would be thinking about him. It's been three years, Hermione. Don't you think it's time to move on? Let your soul be free, love. It's for the better."

Graham then dropped his hand from her back, turned, and went his separate way. Hermione watched for a moment as he moved gracefully around the room, greeting the attendees and flashing his dazzling smile to any witch that gave him the time of day. He was an interesting read, she'd give him that Graham wasn't the heartbreaker her friend warned her of. She'd gotten to know him, coming to find that he was more sensitive than he led on. There was something strangely different about him; yet, she knew in her heart that he couldn't fulfill that darkly thrilling need for adventure. Hermione wanted more than he could possibly give her. And, somehow he knew that. It was _he_ who didn't know what love was, though, she wasn't so sure she knew herself.

Hermione turned, forever distancing herself from Graham as she thought of days gone by. Love was a strange and thrilling anomaly; it deprived from animalistic instinct, and kindled the mind and spirit with molten fire. She didn't know what love was until she met _him_. As she glided across the ballroom, gaining ground toward the alienated arena of the hall, she thought back to the last time she'd seen him. It had been three long years since he came to her during a rainstorm, soaked to the core. There had been a mysterious glint in his eyes, and when he looked up to give his final goodbye, Hermione could have sworn she saw the lost part of him that they'd buried away. It was hard to be in love with someone who couldn't fully love her back; it was even harder to have that love crash and burn like fire being extinguished come dawn. Her entire reason for existing vanished that night and she hadn't been the same since.

Three years.

It's entirely too long to go without love, especially when it was the most unattainable thing to her now. She could hardly believe it had been three years since Tom Riddle disappeared, leaving her behind to find himself. Or, that's what Hermione tricked herself into believing. Their affair hadn't been long, only lasting a few months when he suddenly left, but in that short amount of time, she'd found herself. It was all thanks to him that she was able to trust, to live and finally be free. Graham didn't know a damn thing; he only wished to obtain something that he knew he couldn't have. Love included.

The air was crisp in the Northern Wing of the castle. Hermione had come here to think. As the sun waned, the moon taking its place and the stars appearing in their neglected spots in the sky, she took one last breath and let it out slowly, basking in the last couple of hours and the events that lead to this discovery.

Hermione stared quietly out into the open sky. It was nights like these that made her question everything she has ever been told. But, he had a better spot to which she reluctantly agreed. She hadn't been asked to ride on a broom, but even the towering height of the castle scared her beyond comprehension. Despite the odd location, she marched silently up to the ledge and looked down. Her drink dangled precariously in her hand; she could practically feel her heart beating through her fingers. Her fears were very unlike Graham's, which made her even more reliable in this time to contemplation. She continued to stare shamelessly at the way they were staring at them. Cold, lifeless gazes heavy with the glaring serenity that was suspicion. She had yet to pinpoint the exact cause of it, though, it was becoming obvious by the way they would flicker their gaze to the window she was looking through that their curiosity was directed at her.

"Never once did I imagine we would be here three years later," he said, startling her. Hermione hadn't been to read his energy, or anyone's for that matter. The champagne was doing an excellent job of masking her awareness, the ability to read and seek out magic included. It used to terrify her. Now, it was the most eccentric attribute she was able to hold onto and she owed it all to the owner of the voice. When she turned, her curly hair whipping around in the cool zephyr of the cold January night, Hermione was faced with the man that disappeared and she never wished to see again.

Tom Riddle had been the best thing to happen to her, and the worst mistake she'd ever made. Her biggest mistake was allowing him to get under her skin with his suave and charming smile. He'd been so determined with his pursuit with her. From sending her flowers to her office, to appearing as if a prayer to her broken down spirit. He was the easiest person to talk to and the hardest to get over. The last three years had been a nightmare; work was draining her, her friends were going off and starting families while Hermione was destined to stay in the ditch she'd dug for herself into. What made matters worse was that Tom had come to her like a dream. She didn't believe what she had heard when she first arrived to the charity function, on the arm of some faceless man who paid her the least bit attention. It wasn't long before she decided that celebrating was worth month's of hard work. This was the only gratification she'd allowed herself, and it was ruined by the mere mirage of her ex-lover, a man that she couldn't even call a man at all. He disappeared three years ago, and if it wasn't the champagne speaking, she was determined to find out what his business was with her, if any.

"You look absolutely stunning," he told her, his voice laced with provocative promise. She could feel his eyes appraising her in her rose gold dress. Sparkling accents adorned the flowing hem. The bodice clung to her curves enticingly, inviting a touch that neither one dared allow.

"What are you doing here," she asked defensively, backing away as if he was about to strike. Her wand was stowed away in a small pouch on her thigh, a maneuver she'd adopted from Ginny when she didn't feel like carrying around a purse. It would only take her a fraction of a second to retrieve it, aiming it at his perfectly solid head. Tom only watched her impassively, his emotions locked away behind the impregnable barrier of his eyes, to which would've melted even her ice cold demeanor. Hermione's heart tightened inside her chest. What she would give to know what he was feeling, what he was _thinking_.."You're not supposed to be here, Riddle."

"Is that any way to greet me?" Tom smiled softly, daring to step closer to her. She automatically took a step back, hitting the edge of the balcony with a hiss. Hermione quickly looked over her shoulder, her heart plummeting to her chest. If she were to fall, who would be there to catch her? "As I said, you look stunning. Did your date pick that dress out for you, or was it that annoying little friend of yours?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What date?" she asked suspiciously. "I came to this function alone."

"Is that what you are telling yourself now?" He countered just as vehemently. Tom strided toward her. " Tsk, tsk, Granger. I would have thought you learned your lesson about lying to me. Is he the reason you find yourself on this tower, drinking to your heart's content to numb the pain?"

Hermione scoffed. "The only _pain_ I'm trying to numb now is the pain you caused when you left, Riddle. Now, if you would excuse me, I'd like to go back to just that." She grabbed her glass before turning to move past him. In doing so, she miscalculated her step and stumbled. His arm immediately went out to catch her, his fingers spaying against her back as he pulled her body toward his. Their magic buzzed between them in a hypnotic dance; Hermione gasped, feeling the familiar sensation of his magic trying to marry hers. She didn't need fancy clothes or expensive jewelry. As long as he could give her _this_ , she'd be content.

Hermione leaned into his unwavering warmth just as he was about to pull away.

"You do not even need to question it. I will always be there to catch you," he murmured, his breath teasing her neck as his fingers stroked the delicate skin around her wrists. Tom inhaled deeply, drinking her scent in as much as she would allow before he had no choice but to let her go. "You know… you were never the one to drink. Why is it that you chose tonight, of all nights, to start?"

"I wanted to forget," she whispered, haunted by the idea of what she was about to do. She wanted to become so iniberated that she'd find the courage to leap off the edge of the tower, much like so many had done before her. The energy spoke volumes; she could practically feeling the bursting energy of the restless souls vibrating like a rich spectrum of magic all around her.

"I know I hurt you, Hermione." His eyes darkened at the thought. "But, I had to come back," he said simply. Hermione frowned, not understanding what he meant; she only allowed him to continue out of pure curiosity and not because of courtesy. He'd better have a damn good reason for disappearing like he had. Anything less than spectacular would send him flying right off the edge of the tower. "There is something I have been meaning to tell you."

"You couldn't have told me before you disappeared?" Hermione asked, not wanting to listen to him. Every instinct told her to vanish, to flee. But, she didn't listen. All those residual feelings of love and adoration for the man standing before her were rising up, blinding her senses. She swallowed, trying to rid herself of the dryness in her throat. She could do this. She had to. "You broke my heart, Riddle. What were you thinking when you suddenly disappeared without a trace? It took me months to convince Harry to investigate the matter and he only agreed because he couldn't bear to see me in such a deteriorating state."

"I cannot apologize enough for that, Hermione." True sadness shined in his eyes, an emotion Hermione was sure she'd never seen glimmering in his eyes. She dropped her defense for a moment, drowning in the sheer sensation of his apology. But, the anger quickly heated her up. She shook her head, rebuilding the weakened barrier between them. He wasn't going to get the best of her; she could guarantee that. "But, you must understand _why_ I vanished."

When Hermione didn't say anything, he took it as an invitation to continue.

"I used the time turner to see my past, to see if I could fix it." Tom confessed to her, waiting for any sign of betrayal on her part. The confession must have done its job. Hermione looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. Great consideration danced within her eyes as they grew wide and perturbing.

"That's illegal," she whispered, not believing what he was telling her. "No one had been able to do that. What have you done?"

"I did what I had to do, Hermione," Tom brought his hands to her exposed arms and soothed her. "You deserved to be loved by someone who can love you in return."

"What we had was more than enough, Tom," she cried, not aware of her own self-worth. Tears were already starting to glitter her delicate cheeks.

"You can't be serious, you silly girl," he hissed. "If I can figure this out, I can finally love you the way you deserve, and I wouldn't have to pretend with you."

Hermione gasped, wanting to pull away from him. Memories bursted before her, each highlighting a specific time in their relationship that she'd known he loved her. He didn't have to say it; it was all the little things that made her know that he cared, that somewhere deep down, he loved her. When she first saw him in on her commute to work, she knew she was in trouble. It wasn't until a few weeks later that they spoke and everything blossomed into something the likes of which she'd never seen. Hermione's heart broke at the thought, but she needed to know. She looked up, capturing his heated gaze.

"Did you ever love me," she asked, her lip trembling at the question. Her voice quivered and she braced herself. It was a good thing he caught and moved her away from the ledge; whatever the answer, she didn't trust her actions at the moment, whether it was good or bad.

The way that their magic sparked between them was all the evidence she needed. A delicate hand pressed against her warmth cheek, and she leaned into it and sighed. She didn't need words, thought it wouldn't hurt to hear it just once. Whatever he'd gotten himself into with the Time Turner, she would help him because love was a powerful thing and she'd do absolutely anything for the man she loved.


End file.
